


the ability or inability to be and feel good

by halfwheeze



Series: SPN Kink Bingo [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Corruption, Corruption Kink, Distrust to Lovers, Dom/sub, Embarrassment, Enemies to Lovers, First Kiss, First Time, Horniness, Humiliation, Humiliation kink, Humor, Kink, Kink Negotiation, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Mostly Smut, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Self-Control issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Shameless Smut, Smut, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Under-negotiated Kink, Virginity, You took a perfectly good demon and look at him you made him nervous, twisted sense of self
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-21 20:54:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30027708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfwheeze/pseuds/halfwheeze
Summary: “They might believe you’re helping them, but I’m not stupid, Belphegor. I’ve seen your work. I know what you are. I might be dead, but I’m not an idiot."Kevin Tran doesn't trust Belphegor. The plan was to convince him to think differently, but even that goes a little to the wayside.
Relationships: Kevin Tran/Belphegor
Series: SPN Kink Bingo [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2208951
Comments: 6
Kudos: 5
Collections: SPN Kink Bingo 2021





	the ability or inability to be and feel good

**Author's Note:**

> Heaven and Hell Bingo Square: Enemies to Lovers.  
> SPN Kink Bingo Square: First Kiss. 
> 
> This was meant to be about 1k. It got out of hand. Hope you enjoy!

“They might believe you’re helping them, but I’m not stupid, Belphegor. I’ve seen your work. I know what you are. I might be dead, but I’m not an idiot,” Kevin says, lips pursed prettily. Belphegor puts a hand on his own (borrowed) chest, feigning clutching at his pearls, pearls which of course are not there, because he’s in the body of a dead three year old that looks twenty-three, not the seventy year old woman he possessed last time he was topside. Yes, he really was a young man when he was  _ him,  _ like he told Dean, but that wasn’t the last time he was topside, no. But, everyone lies to Dean Winchester. Who wouldn’t? He’d believe you in a heartbeat. No one said he was the smart one. He hasn’t been topside much, not like other demons, but he’s done it before. He totally has. Even if it was brief. 

“Me? Lie to Sam and Dean? Maybe a little, but I really am helping them. We have some mutual goals, and we’re getting them done together. You can either help with that, and trust me, or you can stay out of my way,” Belphegor says, his jaw clenching just slightly as some of his ever-present control slips, just a little bit. Kevin Tran is one of those horribly attractive young men that he was telling Dean Winchester about, and as many of those young men that he has tortured in his day, speaking to them, as simple as it should be, is more complicated than he would like it to be. Kevin, when he should balk at being threatened by a demon, straightens his spine. 

“Is that a threat?” 

“You have to ask?” Belphegor snaps back, swallowing. He’s never needed to swallow before. He doesn’t know what emotion he’s feeling right now - emotions at all are somewhat unfamiliar, but there are impressions left in this body, impressions left by a creature much stronger than himself, that despite not having a soul that he can feel, still felt. Kevin challenges him further. 

“A question for a question? You’re bluffing. You get rid of me, I act different, Sam and Dean will lose their shit. They’re protective like that. That’s not to say what Cas will do - I saw how he was looking at you. You can’t touch me,” Kevin says, looking up at him defiantly. The torturer in Belphegor rages against him, and all of his calm leaves him. He shoves Kevin against the wall, his back colliding with the bricks. 

“Can’t touch you, can I?” he says, his face taking on an unhinged grin. Unexpectedly, Kevin looks up at him with wonder, smiles even. It’s a good look on him. Belphegor feels even more unsteady himself. 

“You can touch me? Only the ghosts have been able to touch me since I got topside,” Kevin notes, completely unbothered by the violence that had brought him to that realization in the first place. Belphegor, thrown by that, stays exactly where he is, pressing Kevin against the bricks with his own body, probably too close for two people to be.  _ People.  _ Demons aren’t people. Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, the angel Castiel, as willing as they are to accept his assistance, they are equally willing to remind him of that. The subject at hand, rather. He supposes that when the other tactile options have been violent ghosts that hate you, a demon might not be the worst thing you’ve ever heard. 

“Yeah.  _ Demon,  _ remember? Demons can touch souls that have been to hell. Didn’t you read the demon tablet or something?” he jokes, attempting to return himself to comfortable footing even as he’s so close to someone he considers considerably physically attractive. It’s not as if he can be the person to move away first; that’s a show of weakness. But, he’s never been this close to someone so… pretty. Not without carving into them himself, and even so long as he’s been in hell, that’s not really what does it for him. Kevin looks down for a moment, then looks at his face, an eyebrow raised and a grin on his face. 

“Feeling a bit uncomfortable, o’ Demon of Hell?” he says, snorting. He tries to duck under Belphegor’s arm, tries to wiggle out from under his hold, but Belphegor presses closes against him and - oh no. An erection? Really? That’s a distinctly human response. That’s a human response that he has little to no experience with. Some demons like to play around with it, but he’s never… he doesn’t… oh no. He hadn’t realized exactly how sensitive things would be, how much he would - he whimpers.  _ Belphegor, demon of hell, famed torturer,  _ **_whimpers._ **

If he could put a demon blade between his own two lack-of-eyes, he would. Must this happen in front of someone, in front of Kevin Tran, of all people? Embarrassment curls deep in his gut, but it’s still not enough to kill that horrible, embarrassing,  _ obvious  _ tent in his jeans, which he can feel now that he’s aware of it and thinking about it and thinking about the texture of - Dear Lucifer, no. It occurs to him that there’s still very little space between the two of them. 

“You tell no one of this. Go back to the Winchesters, and tell them I’ll be there when I’m finished checking on the spell if they ask,” he says, dropping all of his pretense of humor, his entire persona that he’s had since coming topside. Kevin Tran looks up at him and ignores him entirely, ignores all of his embarrassment and the rage that comes with it, and makes the decision to raise his hand to a demon. He shoves Belphegor back as soon as the demon begins to put some space between them and flips their positions, and before Belphegor can think to get himself together, Belphegor is the one with his back against the wall, Kevin Tran’s thigh between his own, though not pressed high enough to do anything he would like it to do. He swallows, holding onto his rage,  his fear ,for just a moment. 

“I won’t tell anyone, sure. But I haven’t exactly gotten any in hell, and you seem to be willing. So what do you say, Belphegor? Wanna have some fun?” Kevin proposes, dark eyes staring up at Belphegor in a way that makes Belphegor feel like he’s going to melt out of his skin. He thinks it over for a moment. 

“I’ve never-” he can’t finish it. He can’t admit it. Kevin finishes for him. 

“A demon. Who’s never had sex? I was a high school kid when the Winchesters picked me up and I’ve done more than a demon. This is rich,” Kevin says, his voice rich with amusement, and embarrassment curls deeper into Belphegor’s gut. The tantalizing deliciousness of it makes him want to tell Kevin more. 

“I’ve. I’ve never kissed anyone either. Even when I was alive, when I was really me. Died when I was a teenager,” he admits, shrugging a shoulder as he lazes back against the wall. Kevin looks at him a whole new way, possessive and hot, hot, hot, and he grabs Belphegor by the lapels of his jacket unevenly, a rough action, but it’s gentler than it should be, just a pull, just something that makes them closer. It brings their pelvises closer together - not close enough, but still - and Belphegor feels like he’s going to die. 

“I’m gonna be the first kiss of a demon? Kinda special, isn’t it? Do you want me to kiss you?” Kevin asks, leaning in closer. Belphegor finds himself frozen to the spot, the embarrassment and humiliation rioting within him again, and he can smell arousal heavy in the air, not just his own, but Kevin’s too, and it should reassure him, should make him feel like he has more of a ground to stand on, but it just makes him more flustered. 

“Yes,” he says, bright feelings sparking through him too fast to recognize, anxious and wonderful and terrible, and then Kevin pulls him down to kiss. Kevin kisses him hard and kisses him fast and it’s the kind of first kiss you give a demon, but so tender and alive that it’s nothing like anything Belphegor has ever experienced. He has no idea what to do with his hands - he has seen people have sex before, has seen it in the memories of people he’s tortured, has observed things, but now that’s he’s  _ here,  _ he has no idea what to do. He’s never fumbled through anything before. He’s  _ nervous.  _ That’s the feeling. That’s what he couldn’t place. He wants to push Kevin away and cut and run, but Kevin bites his lip and Belphegor is moaning and he can’t run. 

When the kiss breaks, Belphegor puts his head back against the wall to get a break, which is a mistake. Kevin’s lips and teeth are against his throat, and if the goal was to be less overwhelmed, this was not the way to achieve that. 

“Kevin, Kevin, I need a second. Kinda new at this. Gimme a second,” he stumbles out, his hands still not on the prophet but resting at his own sides. Kevin laughs, moving his knee between Belphegor’s legs, rubbing up against his erection and briefly giving him stimulation. Belphegor outright moans, curling against the prophet, his hands finding purchase on the ghost’s hips, his fingers hooking in Kevin’s belt loops. 

_ “That…  _ was not an example of giving me a second,” Belphegor complains, not really noticing as his hips rock slightly, trying to get more of the now out-of-reach touch that had been received before. One of Kevin’s hands stops the motion by cupping his hip, and the other hand moves up to grab his jaw. Hard. Strangely, it’s kinda hot. Really hot. Shit. 

“Yeah, you’re gonna find out that I don’t listen to you. Not really my thing. How about you find us a bed?” Kevin suggests in a way that’s not really a suggestion, kissing him again. It’s brief this time, and harder, and Belphegor feels slightly dizzy. He casts his awareness outward and locates the nearest bed that isn’t gross or occupied (or in a house that’s occupied, because he’s sure Kevin would take offense to that, he’s classier than Belphegor is, likely), and pulls away to tell Kevin about it. The prophet grabs his ass, which inhibits Belphegor’s ability to think or walk or do anything for a moment, but then they’re on their way. Discreetly, he snaps for some lube and puts it in his back pocket. Just in case. 

They find the house and immediately go up to the bedroom, the rest of the house inconsequential in comparison. Kevin pushes him up against the bedroom door when they get there and Belphegor goes willingly, lets Kevin Tran push him around because he doesn’t know what to do anyway, lets him because this is attractive in a way that he doesn’t know how to name. Kevin kisses him again, slips his tongue into his mouth, takes his mouth and makes it his own. When the kiss becomes biting, when it becomes bruising, Kevin has a hand in his hair, and Belphegor doesn’t know when that happened, but he becomes suddenly aware of it when it’s used to yank his hair, to yank his head back so his neck is exposed. The pain is pleasurable in a way he doesn’t think it’s supposed to be - the pain he’s inflicted over the years was certainly never supposed to be pleasurable, and he’s very confused. 

He’s equally confused by how aroused he is by his own confusion. 

Kevin bites down on his collarbone hard enough that it’s most definitely going to leave a mark - and won’t the Winchesters love that - and Belphegor moans. This… is not how pain is supposed to work. Cool hands slide under his shirt and coax it over his head, throwing it across the room once it has cleared his extremities. Once he has access, Kevin leans down, kissing and biting at his chest until he reaches Belphegor’s nipples, biting at one of them. Again, the pain… feels good. 

“Why does the pain feel pleasurable?” he asks, unable to hold his confusion any longer. Kevin snorts, laughs at him, and it sends a shiver down his spine. Hell, this really isn’t how any of this is supposed to work. Humiliation isn’t… he’s learning a lot more about himself than he thinks he’s supposed to learn in one go. 

“A lot of people like pain. You happen to be one of those people, in the right circumstances. I bet you’ll like a lot of things, once I teach you. Can’t believe I’m corrupting a  _ demon.  _ Anybody would think that you can’t,” Kevin muses, grabbing Belphegor by the jaw again, “but I am.” He leads Belphegor over to the bed and pushes him onto it backwards, leading the demon to tip backwards ass over teakettle. He catches himself and crawls back on the bed, making room for Kevin between his legs, even as anxiety bubbles up in his chest. He doesn’t really know what Kevin is going to do now - what Kevin is going to make  _ him  _ do now. He doesn’t know why he’s letting Kevin make him do anything. He doesn’t know why he likes it when Kevin tells him what to do. 

“What now?” he asks, looking up at Kevin, who had just been observing him, looking down at him with eyes that had a heat to them that gave Belphegor that nervous feeling he did not want to dissect. 

“Unbutton and unzip your jeans. If you’re good, I might actually let you take them off. Hands up on the headboard after that,” Kevin instructs, 

“I’m never good. It’s kinda in the description. Dem-”  _ -on, remember? _ he’d been about to say, but Kevin cuts him off. 

“Yes, you’re a demon, I remember. And yet, I’m the one telling you what to do, so how about you get your hands on the headboard and shut up like a good boy,” the prophet says, his voice rougher, and Belphegor swallows. Okay. Hands on the headboard. Hands are on the headboard. Hands are so totally on the headboard that it’s like they’ve been there the whole time. Kevin climbs on top of him and it’s already a little harder to have his hands on the headboard, and then Kevin kisses him. It’s hotter and sweeter than before, horizontal and shirtless and Kevin still fully clothed, Kevin’s weight on his erection, and Belphegor already feels overwhelmed again. He wants to touch, he wants to feel Kevin’s skin, he wants to curl his fingers in Kevin’s clothes and pull them off of him, he wants things to progress, but he doesn’t really know how to make those things happen, and now he  _ can’t  _ make those things happen, and wow, that’s surprisingly hot. 

Okay. 10 points to Kevin Tran. 

He thrusts his hips up against Kevin, because that’s something he can do, and it feels so good that he wants to do it again immediately, but Kevin stops kissing him, which means it was probably something he wasn’t supposed to do. Kevin leans up to look him in the eye and grinds down against him purposefully, roughly, terribly, and it just barely edges on pain, but it feels so fucking good that Belphegor sobs out a moan. The pressure is constant as Kevin bites and licks his way down the column of Belphegor’s throat, pressing kisses there occasionally and sparingly, sucking a hickey over the bite he left on the demon’s collarbone earlier. More attention gets lavished on Belphegor’s nipples and he arches into it, once again surprised by the intensity of the feeling there. For all that he thinks he knows, there’s some things that it appears only experience will help him learn. Or, perhaps, if he had observed more. 

He whines his disappointment when Kevin climbs off of him, but he does not move his hands. He’s learning. Kevin stretches out beside him, peeling down his jeans to reveal his boxers, which have a wet spot around the tip of his erection, which is embarrassing. He doesn’t know why he feels embarrassed. It’s a natural reaction to stimulation, but he’s embarrassed. He wants to  _ squirm.  _ He didn’t squirm under the torture of the hands of Alastair or of Abaddon herself when they wanted to put him back in his place, but he wants to squirm now. Kevin touches the wet spot, runs over the head of Belphegor’s cock with his thumb, and Belphegor  _ keens.  _ Kevin settles in beside him, playing with the head of his cock through his boxers, teasing him as he uses his other hand to reach up and tug at Belphegor’s hair. 

The pull of it is surprisingly nice. It turns him on, which is beginning to become expected, but it also grounds him in the moment. Keeps him here, and not awash in all of the feeling that’s happening with Kevin’s hand on his cock. Everything is fine. 

And then Kevin actually dips his hand into Belphegor’s boxers and wraps his hand around him, and all bets are off. Belphegor doesn’t take his hands off the headboard. He doesn’t take his hands off the headboard. He thrusts into Kevin’s hand. It’s too much. Kevin strokes him fast and hard two or three times, maybe four or five, he can’t think or count or breathe, really, but then he slows down to something that’s slightly more manageable except that he’s paying a lot of attention to the head of it, and it’s really sensitive, and Belphegor might die. Kevin Tran, a ghost without any sort of actual power over him, without having actually used any restraints, has him with his hands against the headboard of a bed, unmoving, and he’s about to kill him without using any weapons. 

Everything is fine. 

“Do you want me to fuck you, or would you like to fuck me? It’s your first time, so I’ll let you pick,” Kevin says, pulling at Belphegor’s hair again, gentler this time. He can barely think with Kevin still stroking his cock. Fuck. Okay. He’s thought about this, once or twice over the centuries. How he’d like to be with a man. How he’d like to be under a man. 

“One of the most intense erogenous zones of the male body is only reachable if you get fucked,” Belphegor replies instead of properly answering, not quite looking at Kevin either. Kevin, unamused, releases his hair and uses that hand to tip his head up so that he really has to turn his awareness at the prophet. 

“An actual answer, Belphegor,” Kevin says, using his name - it hits differently than Belphegor was expecting. He doesn’t know if he likes it in this context, said aloud by this person who is touching him. If he likes to be himself in this context, being touched. “Bel. Just Bel, then?” the prophet offers, and Bel nods, liking that better. It’s simpler. Doesn’t hold the weight of his true name, doesn’t hold the history.  _ Bel  _ doesn’t have the horrible sins of everything he’s ever done. “Still need to answer, Bel. And soon,” Kevin reminds him, grip tightening on his jaw and chin as he tips Bel’s head up again. Bel is reminded of exactly where he is and what he’s doing, and exactly what he wants done to him next; if he were human, he’d likely be blushing. If one was wondering, everything is fine. 

“You know what I want,” he says, trying to retreat back onto familiar ground. Kevin snorts. 

“Doesn’t matter what I know, demon. Give me an actual answer, or it’s all off the table,” Kevin says, but he must be bluffing. He can’t seriously be suggesting that he would leave Bel like this. Sincerely. “You have a right hand, you could use it.” He’s not bluffing, is he? Well. In for a penny, then. It’s weird, being called  _ demon  _ like this. Almost sounds affectionate. 

“I want you to fuck me. There’s lube in the back pocket of my jeans.” 

The honesty feels like being punched in the chest, but Kevin rewards him by squeezing his cock, so who’s really winning here? Standing, Kevin reaches and strips Bel of his jeans and boxers entirely, leaving a naked demon in his wake while the prophet remains entirely fully clothed. For some reason, that might be… attractive. The exposure. Having to be… open. Bel has never been open with anyone before, even when he was alive. He was a little shit when he was alive, closed off to everyone for self preservation reasons, for any reason he could make up just to push everyone away, but here he is, naked in more ways than one. His hands are still on the headboard. Kevin is between his legs. 

“I’m going to start prepping you now. I have to finger you before I can fuck you, because someone here is a virgin,” Kevin teases, looking up at Belphegor with a smirk. It stirs up some of Bel’s old bravado. He won’t be  _ teased  _ like some child on a schoolyard by  _ Kevin Tran  _ who never even finished high school, which was the least of his lofty academic goals. He’s an adult. He can handle himself. Furthermore, he’s a demon. He can handle just about anything Kevin Tran can really throw at him. 

“I don’t need preparation. I’m a demon. I’ve had worse,” he says, and Kevin grabs his thigh, his grip tight and a stony look in his eye. 

“This isn’t about having worse. This is about giving you better. You don’t realize how much it can hurt without preparation, and I’m not willing to be the person who gives you that wakeup call. Besides, I didn’t ask what you think you need. If you want me to fuck you, I’ll be prepping you. And I’ll be doing this if you ever want me to fuck you again, is that clear?” Kevin asks, making it quite clear that it’s not really a question, but he expects an answer anyway. 

“Yes sir,” Bel says, the honorific slipping out sarcastically, and Kevin raises an eyebrow. 

“Someone is a little brat, isn’t he? Feeling a little big for our britches for our first time, aren’t we? I know what will fix that. Lay back,” Kevin commands, slicking up his fingers until they’re dripping with the clear lubricant. A shiver goes up Bel’s spine, and that’s all the warning he gets before one of Kevin’s fingers is tracing the rim of his hole, dipping in not a second later. He gasps at the sensation. He’s never… he doesn’t get a lot of time off, okay? Even when Crowley was king, it wasn’t like Hell was subsidized and well put together. He likes his job because it’s repetitive. He knows what’s going on. But this… if he’s been missing this as long as he’s been alive, dead, really, he might keep Kevin Tran forever. Wait, Kevin said something about fucking him again. He wants to fuck him again? 

He really thought this was a one-time show. A one-hit wonder. Huh. 

“You want to - oh Hell and high water,” Bel cuts himself off as Kevin adds another finger, reaching deeper inside of him, and he knows the shit did it because Bel had started talking. “You want to do this again?” he manages to say. He manages to get it out right before Kevin finds  _ one of the most intense erogenous zones of the male body,  _ and Bel arches off the bed once again, and frankly, his spine might well and leave his body, because holy fuck. Kevin rubs at it now that he’s found it and Bel realizes that the constant hum of noise in the room is himself moaning, and it’s all very embarrassing. Kevin pulls out his fingers and Bel thinks, for a moment, that they’re done and Kevin is finally going to fuck him - that’s when Kevin adds another finger, stretching him even further, and Belphegor grips the headboard hard enough that it begins to splinter in his hand. 

“Take your hands off the headboard and put them on the bed beside your hips. Don’t lift them,” Kevin instructs him, eyeing the cracking headboard wearily. 

“And yes,” he adds, his voice slightly lighter as he strokes Bel’s inner walls gently, “I want to do this again, if you’re willing. Do you want to do this again?” The feeling is intense as he reaches deep inside of Bel again, stroking the bundle of nerves that makes him feel like the entire world is quaking.  _ Dear fucking fuck,  _ he wants to do this again. But admitting that? Admitting that he wants something, that he wants someone, that he wants something from someone that he isn’t willing to take in his own two hands without permission? That’s something he can’t really bear. 

“Do  _ that  _ again,” he says instead, but Kevin pulls his fingers out instead. 

“I think you’re ready, little demon. Any other discussions can be tabled for later. Right now, I’ve got a demon to ruin,” Kevin says, leaning in to kiss him again. Belphegor allows himself to be lost in being kissed, allows himself to be taken over and possessed, because all of this time he has done so much possessing in his day. Kevin Tran kisses him like he is conquering something and Belphegor, so long a warrior, lets himself be conquered. He lays back and keeps his hands flat on the sheets exactly where Kevin told him they should be, waiting to experience something he has never experienced before. 

The fear is back, but so is the tantalizing excitement, the awed inspiration. Kevin pulls away from the kiss to get up and stand fully. 

“Look at you, spread out and naked, all for me. Thousand year old demon, and you’ve never done this before?” Kevin asks, his tone all sardonic teasing, but Bel still shakes his head. The humiliation stirs within him again, low down in his belly, and he hates how much it turns him on to be embarrassed by this, which turns him on all over again. Vicious cycle. “Time for me to get undressed as well, I suppose. You’ve been good after all. Seems I didn’t need to remember you were a demon after all, huh?” Kevin smiles then, taking off his shirt in one single motion. Bel knows that he could use the inherent magic of being a ghost to choose to just be naked, so the stripping is a show, and one that must be for him. Kevin Tran is even more attractive choosing to be naked. There’s so much skin that Bel hardly knows what to look at, but the trail of hair leading down to his pants is what’s truly distracting him. Kevin pauses on the zipper of his own jeans, and is smirking when Bel finally remembers to look up at his face. 

“I-” he starts, embarrassed, but Kevin cuts him off, laughing, chuckling, whatever horribly amused expression a human would call it. Embarrassment surges within Belphegor once again. Desperation leaks off of him in waves he wishes he could control the ebb and flow of, but he cannot stop himself more than one could stop the sea. 

“It’s okay. Would you like to come unfasten them for me?” Kevin proposes, and all of the saliva leeches out of Belphegor’s mouth at once.  _ Touch, touch, touch, touch, touch.  _ He’d be able to touch Kevin. He would be able to, ostensibly, make him feel good. Apropos of nothing, this thought fills him with a feeling of arousal like nothing else has, and Bel leaves the bed before he can have another thought at all, his knees hitting the floor hard enough to make an impact that  _ hurts  _ slightly, and he’s a  _ demon.  _ Anyway. Less important. He unbuttons Kevin’s jeans, unzipping them quickly as well, suddenly grateful for the fact that he’s somewhat familiar with modernwear in his short stint in this stolen body. He’s already embarrassing himself enough in this endeavor. 

“Can I touch?” he asks, looking up at Kevin from his place on his knees, even if he doesn’t really see through his eyes. With the lack of eyes in the vessel, it’s more of a universal aura sensing, but people tend to be more comfortable if they’re under the impression he sees through his eyes. Kevin, in the case, threads his fingers through the hair on the back of Bel’s head. 

“You can, but when I say stop, you stop. Be good,” Kevin says, his voice tight, but there’s a note in it that sounds almost… fond? That’s not possible, though. Kevin is doing this to get off. He has no actual interest in Belphegor. Actual interest isn’t important. Belphegor is a demon. His comfort, his emotions, his  _ feelings  _ aren’t important. He opens Kevin’s jeans further and lets them drop a little, hanging somewhere around Kevin’s thighs as he gives into the impulse to nose as Kevin’s cock, rubbing his face along the outline of it. A softer version of pride bursts within him when Kevin makes a noise of pleasure, tugging at his hair a little. 

“I’ll be good,” Bel whispers to himself, pulling down Kevin’s boxers so that he can properly handle the prophet’s erection, inspiring more noise from above. On his knees, he feels the closest to prayer that he has in centuries, feels the closest to God that he ever has in his life. He wraps his inexperienced mouth Kevin’s cock and allows it much further than he probably should his first time, but it’s not like he really has to breathe. It hurts some, scratches at the back of his throat like it does when you’re sick and there’s something caught in your throat - ha! - but it doesn’t really matter. Kevin pulls his hair back, and Bel doesn’t catch himself before he whines. He wants to be - to do - to make Kevin feel good. He focuses his awareness back up at Kevin and the prophet is not pleased. Go figure. Bel strokes his cock with his hand, hoping to distract Kevin like the other had done with him before. Not so much. 

“Don’t take too much. And I thought you had a goal here. Why are you focussed on me when you wanted me to fuck you? Touch  _ one of the most intense erogenous zones of the male body?  _ What’s up?” Kevin asks, taking Bel’s jaw in his hand and stopping his hand on Kevin’s cock with the other. The attention makes him want to cut and run again, makes him want to pretend this was all a trick or a ploy, makes him want to set the entire house on fire and uproot and pretend he’s someone else and never see Kevin Tran again. It also makes him want to be terribly honest and he’s never wanted to be honest more than he has been today and it’s fucking  _ sickening  _ and he doesn’t know how people have dealt with Kevin Tran for his entire existence, because honesty sucks. He feels torn open. 

“I want… that. I want to feel good. But I want to make you feel good… as well,” Belphegor admits, turning his face away from Kevin as he sits back on the bed, wanting to cover up suddenly. Kevin crowds into his space where he sits on the edge of the bed, stands between his legs and cups his face in both hands, much more delicate than he’s ever been treated before. It saps Belphegor of all of the air in his lungs, all of his desire to fight, all of his ability to move and all of the thoughts in his mind, all in one go. 

“You’ve been making me feel good. I’ve been having fun. I’ve just been having fun making you feel good. Okay? And fucking you? That part would feel  _ very  _ good for me, if you still want that. If not, no problem. Everything is okay. You did good,” Kevin says, promises really, before kissing Bel much lighter than he has the whole time they’ve been doing this, much more gently, and it’s enough to make a demon feel like spun sugar, it really is. Bel wraps his legs around Kevin’s hips instinctually, pulls him in and backs further onto the bed, laughing while he does it because he’s a little shit, and Kevin is laughing when the kiss breaks too. The heavy feeling in Bel’s chest leaves. The bottle of lube is still in the bed with them, falls into the dip they create when they’re occupying the same space, and Kevin slicks up his cock with it before he lines himself up. 

“Ready?” Kevin asks, his thumb rubbing circles on Belphegor’s hip with that same affection, that same fondness that makes Bel feel like he’s going to fall right through the bed. The demon nods, but Kevin raises his eyebrows, purses his lips. Belphegor ducks his head. 

“I’m ready,” he says, his voice taking on an embarrassing whining quality, but then Kevin is pressing in, and everything else is window dressing, because holy fuck. Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck. Kevin fucks into him slowly at first, but picks up the pace when Bel pulls him in with his own hips, with his legs wrapped around Kevin’s waist still, with babbled words and a declining grasp on the English language. He might begin speaking archaic French at some point, looping in the rough tone with latin, thought certainly not coherently enough to do any magic. It only gets worse once Kevin’s aim gets better, because now Belphegor is  _ silent,  _ or nearly so, whining as his hands dig into Kevin’s back. He knows that the souls in hell have marks of what they do to them, but will Kevin have marks from this? 

He doesn’t know whether to hope so. 

“Fuck, you feel good,” Kevin says at some point, Belphegor doesn’t know how long he’s been lost in his head, lost in this, but the words are enough to make him whimper. He reaches down to touch his cock, but Kevin knocks his hand out of the way nearly immediately, wrapping his own rough fingertips around it, jerking it messily. It’s already wet with all of the precum he’s been spilling all over himself, already a mess all by himself. It’s a perverse pleasure that Bel takes in it. 

“I feel so - I’m gonna cum. I -” Bel can’t string an entire sentence together, but Kevin understands what he means, fucks into him a little harder, squeezes around the tip of his cock, and Belphegor could scream. 

“Go ahead, Bel. It’s okay. Go ahead.”

And that’s it. He’s over the edge just like that, painting his own chest white and Kevin’s hand too, the prophet still moving in and out of him a few times until he can feel his partner release inside of him as well. He doesn’t really feel it when Kevin pulls out, doesn’t really feel it when Kevin uses something from one of the drawers to wipe off his chest and between his legs, doesn’t really pay attention until Kevin is coaxing him to lay down next to him. Until Kevin is kissing him again, sweet and clean and kind and nice and wow, everything is really nice right now. He hadn’t realized how much it felt like he was floating until he had something to come down for. Kevin pulls away, gentle and careful, like he’s a delicate thing, and it’s so strange, but it feels so close to perfect that Bel just lets it happen. 

“Feel good?” Kevin asks, like it’s some innocuous question, like Belphegor has ever felt good before today in his entire torturous life. Satisfied, sure. Pleased, maybe. Like he had accomplished what he was meant to and nothing more? Definitely. But good? Not once in his horrible little life. Today? Today, he feels good. And that is very strange indeed. 

“Yeah. I feel good.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all liked it. Let me know what y'all think. Send me an ask or hit me on comms @sapphiccass on tumblr.


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